Hidden Angels
by omigoditschriscolfer
Summary: Eighty-two days, Blaine has counted, since he found out. But nothing can make him forget Kurt when he was Blaine's greatest support. Not Quinn, not Isaac, not even the epic discoveries they all make together. Part 1 of my Grilled Cheese!AU.
1. Depression

Go inside. Close the door. Check the answering machine. Take meds. Eat dinner. This was Blaine's schedule, and it had been for exactly eighty-two days.

"You have no new messages," the computerized voice said out of the phone. He set it down on the dresser in his bedroom and stared at it for a second. Then he looked at the little orange bottle in his hand, and up into the mirror in front of him. There was a picture beside it of him and his brother, which was taken about three and a half months ago. He compared Picture Blaine to Mirror Blaine.

Picture Blaine was smiling like an idiot, his arm wrapped around Cooper's waist as the older boy held him off the ground. There was paint smeared over both of them, along with soap bubbles and mud streaks on their knees. Both of them had been so happy, so carefree working at the summer camp Dalton and Crawford organized every year. Nothing had been wrong.

Mirror Blaine on the other hand looked like a disaster. Tangled hair, wrinkled clothes, sullen face. His eyes were empty, expression blank. The only colour on him was the pink scratch marks down his arms from needing to physically hold onto something without drawing attention to himself. Compared to the photograph, Blaine's reflection looked like it had been thrown in a blender and aged ten years.

_It's because he's gone,_ Blaine thought. The doctors had said it would be best to not think too much about him, so Blaine had taken down all of the photos of him. But one line from a song explained everything perfectly:

_An empty room, I'm empty too,_

_But everything reminds me of you._

The dried rose on the shelf. The smell of coffee. Hearing Katy Perry come on the radio. All of it triggered the same thought:

_Kurt. _

_He's gone,_ Blaine reminded himself. _He's gone, and you can't do anything about it._ He ran a hand through his hair and stumbled backwards until he hit the bed. He fell on his back and shut his eyes against the tears, but nothing could stop it now. Silent sobs wracked his body as he curled into a ball on his side, barely holding himself together.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered to himself. His hand tightened around the bottle in his hand and he squinted at the label:

_DULOXETINE HCI_

_Take one tablet twice daily. _

_It would be so easy,_ Blaine mused silently. Then, for a second, his mind blurred over. He felt... happier. Sort of. Like someone had given him a sad sort of smile, reassuring yet understanding, like the people at Kurt's funeral who'd seen death before and didn't say things like "it'll be okay," or "he's in a better place now." It didn't make him feel perfectly cheery, but he wasn't as suicidal anymore.

Blaine froze as the memory of a voice, breaking through tears, whispered through his befuddled mind: _"I'll never say goodbye to you."_

Then, something he'd never heard Kurt say before: _"I'll come back. Don't do anything stupid."_

The bottle fell out of Blaine's hand and rolled onto the floor. His eyes fluttered closed, and he fell asleep to Kurt's voice echoing through his head.

**~o0o~**

At school, it felt like everyone was in one of three moods: mourning (the glee club and most of the senior class), pissed off (mostly the jocks who somewhat respected Kurt and had anger management issues), or pissed off at the mourners (idiots who thought Kurt had been asking for it and were tired of the depressing mood around school). It sucked. So, Blaine offered his idea.

"Hey, guys," Mr. Shue greeted the glee club glumly at the end of the day. A few people mumbled responses, but most stayed silent. Blaine looked up and built up the courage to speak.

"Mr. Shue?" he asked. Everyone looked at him—he hadn't spoken more than two words to anyone since Kurt died, much less called out in class. The teacher nodded silently in acknowledgement.

"I know things haven't been the same since..." He trailed off, knowing everyone knew what he was talking about. "So, I had an idea. We could write a letter."

Mr. Shue looked at him and thought for a second. "That's actually a good idea," he commended. A few people nodded and sat up straighter.

"I've got a notepad and a pen. Whadda you say?" The room nodded as a whole and shuffled to the piano in silent agreement.

Blaine pulled out the paper and started writing.

_Dear Kurt, _

_I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you. I wish you really could come back. But you can't. Those idiots on the football team went too far. I love you. I know you know that, but—_

Santana snatched the pen from Blaine's hand as a few tears fell onto the paper, effectively creating a line of black ink across the page. Blaine moved over without protest, letting Santana sit on the piano bench and write her part.

_Hey, Hummel. Blainers over here is getting all sappy on us, so I thought I'd save the paper from getting too many tear stains. We all miss you, but now you're with your mom again, so you must be happy about that. _

"Santana, move it," Finn whined. The cheerleader rolled her eyes halfheartedly, writing one last line.

_Finn's getting grabby on me, so I'm gonna—_

Finn stole the pen out of Santana's hand the same way she had with Blaine. She sighed and got up, standing beside Brittany as Finn began writing.

_Hi, Kurt. Burt's been a mess since you died. Blaine hasn't even spoken. No one's been happy at all. Just remember that you're my brother, and you always will be. _

Finn nodded to himself and handed the pen to Rachel silently. The diva did her best to keep her message light, taking the time to dot her "i"s with little hearts.

_Hi, fellow fashion lover! I went through some old photos of us from freshman year, and I swear you looked ten years old! I know we're turning into a broken record, but we really do miss you. _

"Rachel, hurry up," Puck sighed sadly. Rachel ignored him.

_Puck says I've had enough time, but I—_

Santana helped her ex-boyfriend by stealing the pen from Rachel, who pouted as Puck slid the notebook over to himself and took the pen from Santana.

_Sorry about Rachel's rambling. We still can't get her to shut up. Just so you know, I personally beat the shit out of the assholes on the football team. They aren't going where you are, that's for sure. Things have been really freaking depressing around here lately. Anyways, say "Hi" to your mom for me!_

Puck gave the pen to Mercedes as Blaine spoke up again.

"I'm going to give this to the Dalton boys tomorrow," he said. "Kurt's their friend, too."

Mercedes nodded and began writing.

_I love you! I miss you! Without you, the only shopping partner I have is Rachel. I really wish I'd worked on my fashion sense with you earlier. The Warblers get this tomorrow (via Blaine, of course), so be prepared for crazy! _

"Anyone else?" she asked quietly. No one spoke up. She slid the book back to Blaine, who stuffed it in his bag and stood up. There was a few seconds of silence before the bell rang.

"See you guys," Blaine mumbled, fleeing the room before anyone could stop him.

"Hey, little brother," Cooper greeted at the front doors of the school. Blaine hadn't trusted himself to drive for the last few days, afraid he might give up and drive off a bridge or something. So Cooper had driven him home every day, having given up on trying to make it in Hollywood.

Blaine grabbed Cooper's wrist, holding onto his older brother like a lifeline. Cooper led him to the car, opening the door and closing it behind him.

They drove home in silence, Blaine still holding a vice-like grip on Cooper's arm. He ran inside as soon as the car stopped in the driveway, locking himself in his room for the night.

"Blaine," Cooper called from the hallway later. "Do you want anything for dinner?"

"No," Blaine responded. Cooper left him alone, trying to pretend he didn't hear the muffled screams and sobs coming from the bedroom upstairs.

When Blaine did come out of hiding, he'd changed into a dark, long-sleeved shirt and grey sweatpants. Cooper was sitting in the living room watching a rerun of _CSI: Miami,_ half asleep with his body draped across the couch.

"C-Coop?" Blaine said quietly. Cooper sat up and looked over to his brother, who kept his hands behind his back.

"Come here, Blaine," he sighed, falling easily into big-brother mode. Blaine shuffled over and sat beside him, pulling his sleeves over his hands.

"Lemme see," Cooper pressed, rolling Blaine's sleeves up to his elbows. The younger boy's arms were bleeding, his hands streaked with blood, and there were already a few new bruises starting to form on his wrists.

"I'm sorry," Blaine mumbled, trying to pull his sleeves back down. Cooper caught his eye and stopped him. Silently, he pulled his brother to the downstairs bathroom and cleaned the scratches, scrubbed his hands, and wrapped his arms in clean white bandages. Then, in a spur of the moment idea, he led Blaine into the kitchen and sat him at the counter.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked halfheartedly as his crazy older brother put a frying pan on the stove. Cooper pulled a handful of ingredients out of the fridge and got to work.

"What always made you feel better when you were little?" he asked while he blocked what he was doing from Blaine's vision. Blaine thought for a minute and remembered just as he was served.

A tiny bit of a smile broke out on his face. "Grilled cheese sandwiches," he began, looking up at Cooper.

"... With bacon in the middle and pretzels on the side," the older boy continued in a phony British accent, twirling once and dropping a handful of pretzel sticks on top of the sandwich.

"It's one o'clock on a Monday morning," Blaine chided lightly, chewing on a pretzel. Cooper shrugged and sat beside him, handing him a water bottle.

"You missed dinner. Eat." He punctuated the last word by shoving the plate a few inches closer to Blaine.

Blaine accepted the gentle hug Cooper gave him and ate his sandwich, realizing that Cooper had been the only person who could get him to eat lately. Or sleep on a somewhat normal schedule. Or make him take his medication every day.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked once the last pretzel was gone. Cooper looked at him.

"Doing what?"

"Taking care of me," Blaine replied quietly. Cooper laughed once and put an arm around Blaine's shoulders.

"Blaine, I'm your older brother. It says in the job description that I have to take care of you when you can't quite do it yourself," he soothed before Blaine yawned loudly.

"I need you to do something for me, okay squirt?" Cooper asked gently. Blaine looked at his brother and nodded.

"You have to stop hurting yourself like this," he whispered, gesturing to the bandages on Blaine's forearms. "You know I won't get mad at you for it, but I still don't like seeing you like that." Blaine rested his head on Cooper's shoulder and nodded again.

"O-okay. I'll stop." Cooper smiled sadly and led Blaine back upstairs to his room, the younger boy falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**~o0o~**

Blaine left early that morning, aiming to get to Dalton before classes started. Which was easier said than done, seeing as he had a two-and-a-half-hour drive ahead of him and first period started at 8:15, and he was running on four hours of sleep. Miraculously, he made it with fifteen minutes to spare.

"Nick!" Blaine called, spotting the sophomore across the courtyard. Nick turned towards his voice and waited for him to catch up.

"What's up, Blaine?" Nick greeted quietly. He had been one of the first Warblers to learn about Kurt's attack, and so he took it a bit harder than the rest. He'd been unable to form a completely coherent happy thought for the last two months.

Blaine told him about the letter idea, and Nick summoned a few other Warblers to the practise hall.

"Blaine?" Jeff said as he walked in, followed by Wes and David. "What're you doing here?"

Blaine explained the letter idea again, and typical Warbler insanity ensued. Wes barely got to write his part before David stole the pen, and they fought over it so much that the paper was soon covered in blue scribbles, one of which Wes made into a doodle of a fire-breathing kitten. The same thing happened when Jeff and Nick tried to get it from him. Jeff laughed it off and wrote at the bottom of the page:

_P.S. The ink marks are from the Warblers fighting over the pen. You know us! :)_

"Thanks, guys," Blaine mumbled when he got the paper back. They all had to rush to first period, but Nick ended up forging a sad little group hug before they left.

Blaine ditched school for the next two weeks, hanging out at the Lima Bean and wasting about thirty dollars a day on refills of peppermint hot chocolate. He spent his time alternating between sulking out the window and attempting to figure out where that little buzz if confusion had come from that one night. Whatever it was, the only thing his mind could ever come up with was, "It saved my life." If he tried to think too much about it, he'd get a headache.

At one point, Blaine could have sworn he saw something out of the corner of his eye—a shimmering form on the other side of the room. When he turned to see what it was, it was gone.

"Please, Kurt," he whispered to the empty space around himself, "I need you."

**~o0o~**

Nothing happened for a few weeks. Blaine kept the letter in the dresser beside his bed, the glee club having signed it after the Dalton boys had finished with it. About a month later, though, things got interesting.

Blaine woke up one morning and reached out for the letter, which he had stuffed in an envelope addressed with Kurt's name. But... it wasn't there. Instead, he found an unmarked box about the size of a small book. There was a sticky note on the far side:

_Don't open this until glee practise today. Show everyone. -K_

The note was written in what was unmistakably Kurt's neat-ish scrawl. It was impossible, Blaine thought, that someone who had died four months ago could write anything.

But then again, this was Kurt.

The day blurred into nothing by way of Blaine's anxiety. All too soon, he was sitting in the back row of the choir room with the box in his hand.

The glee club had become a bit happier after they'd written the letter. Rachel had gotten the skip back in her step; Mercedes mothered Blaine and Rory, the new kid; and Puck was back to his badboy sex-shark ways. Things were almost normal.

Curiosity took over as Blaine opened the box. He shook a folded piece of paper onto his lap and opened it.

_Dear everyone,_

_Thank you. I miss you guys, too. My mom says hi, and that she's glad I found such great friends and an even better boyfriend (her words, not mine. But I agree with her, anyways). _

_Finn, of course you're my brother. You're such a freaking teddy bear, it's hard not to love you. Take care of my dad for me. _

_Mercedes, I give you full permission to raid my bedroom and take the box of magazines I have stored under my bed... And show them to Rachel. Please. _

_Puck, thanks. As much as I know you won't admit it, you've really protected me lately. You're just as much of a teddy bear as Finn sometimes. _

_Blaine, I need you to listen to your brother. Whenever you feel physical pain, it's doubled in me. I can't stand to see you like that. The connection between us is too strong. _

_As much as they would like it, don't tell the Warblers I wrote back. They already belong in padded cells. _

_I need to tell you something. In person. So if anything weird happens, blame me. _

_I love you, _

_Kurt. _

"Guys?" Blaine called quietly, earning the attention of everyone in the room. He looked up from the letter—which was written entirely in Kurt's handwriting—and into the eyes of fifteen curious teenagers, their teacher running late. "I think you should hear this. Remember the letter we wrote?"

Everyone nodded and a few people "uh huh"'d. Blaine took a breath. "We got a response."

Once he'd successfully stopped everyone from freaking out, Blaine read the letter aloud. He omitted the part that had been written to him, as no one knew what had been going on in that aspect and Blaine preferred to keep it that way.

"In person?" Rachel mused after a few seconds of stunned silence. "Are you sure this isn't just a cruel prank from your brother?"

"It isn't," Blaine said confidently. "One, Cooper isn't that mean or ignorant, and two, this is Kurt's handwriting." He turned the paper away from himself and waited for everyone to calm down again.

"Which means..." Quinn speculated from her seat, trailing off.

"Yep," came a voice from the corner. All heads turned at the sound as a figure stepped out of the shadows, his arms folded across his chest.

"I've missed you guys."


	2. Reunited

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Internet was down because my mom was trying to make me clean my room. Nothing exciting. This story's convoluted and I rewrote this chapter so it might not make too much sense.**

**~o0o~**

Kurt shimmered into the room, keeping himself in the shadows as Rachel speculated the authenticity of his letter. It took most of his self control to stay hidden and not go up and hold Blaine's hand or give him a hug.

_Too soon,_ he scolded himself. _I can't freak any of them out, especially Blaine._

His attention was called back to his former classmates as Rachel squeaked the the letter, which Blaine had turned so the writing was facing them. The only other response he remembered was Puck mumbling something along the lines of, "How high did I _get_ last night?"

"Which means..." Quinn muttered to herself after everyone had quieted down again.

_Now or never,_ Kurt sighed silently. He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped towards the group.

"Yep," he said loudly, more confident than he'd expected. Everyone's heads whipped toward him and stared.

A grin broke out on Kurt's face. "I've missed you guys."

There was a few seconds of stunned silence from the group in front of him, then surprisingly Puck was the first to speak.

"Kurt?" he managed. Kurt's smile widened and he laughed.

"Yes, Noah. It's me." Kurt spread his arms out and gestured to himself, keeping his distance. Quinn stood up and took a step towards him.

"Do you think you could explain what exactly is going on here?" she asked, moving closer. "Because Puckerman thinks he's hallucinating and everyone else thinks they're having a fever dream."

Kurt looked at her, not missing the black flame in her pupils that was invisible to everyone else. His smile disappeared.

"You'd know, Fabray." He turned away from her and back to the glee club.

"But you guys don't." He grabbed a chair from beside him and sat down on it, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you guys, but my boss doesn't mind. Especially since you've all been exposed to an element of my world for so long." He glared at Quinn for a second before getting back on topic.

"Anyways, there's a commonwealth of spirits, people who did something... significant in their lives." His gaze shifted between Quinn and Blaine nervously. "Anyone from people who raised awareness for diseases to people who, directly or indirectly, saved or ended someone's life. Call it what you want; there's no official name for it.

"We all get a job. My mom works in administration, helping lost spirits find where they're supposed to go." A small smile crossed Kurt's face as he looked at his step brother. "Finn," he said quietly, catching the boy's attention. "Your dad's a really great guy. He's the equivalent to a police chief."

"My—my dad?" Finn sputtered. "Really?"

"Yeah. He says he really wishes he could have known you." Kurt turned back to the rest of the group.

"Some people have too strong of a tie to the human world to leave it behind," he continued, looking at Blaine. "That's where I come in, and Quinn, too. You might as well tell them," he added when Quinn gave him an evil glare.

"I'm not telling. It sounds way too weird coming out of my mouth. I give you permission to tell them."

Kurt stared at Quinn for a second before looking at the glee club again.

"Quinn's a death angel. Her job is to collect the lost spirits and hand them over to someone in my mom's position. It's only natural that she'd hate me now—we're on complete opposite sides of the spectrum." He looked at Blaine again and concentrated on what he wanted to say.

_Have you figured it out yet?_

Blaine jumped in his seat, suddenly more alert than ever. "Guardian angel," he blurted out. "You—you're my guardian angel."

Kurt smiled and nodded. He stood up, hearing footsteps at the door. "Someone's coming. I'll be here." Kurt's form shimmered into nothing, leaving thirteen confused teenagers and a bored-looking death angel in his wake. Well, not really. If he was in the room, physically or not, Quinn would still be able to see him. She shot him an angry look and projected a thought to him that would make sailors blush.

Kurt sat on the floor beside Blaine's chair, crossing his legs as Mr. Shue entered the room.

"Quinn, he can't know. Don't let anyone tell him," Kurt said out loud. Quinn's eyes flickered over to meet his and she nodded once—if someone busted Kurt, Quinn would be dragged along with him. As much as they loathed each other, Quinn would help Kurt if it meant saving her own ass.

"Sorry I'm late," Mr. Shue apologized, setting a pile of sheet music on top of the piano. Blaine shuffled in his seat and looked around the room subtly.

_I'm right here,_ Kurt thought towards him. _Don't move. No one else can see me but Quinn right now._

Kurt made himself visible to Blaine, taking his hand gently. Blaine did his best to act like the angel wasn't there while Mr. Shue blabbed about fundraising for the bus to reigonals.

Eventually, the bell rang, signalling the end of the day. Quinn told everyone to stay after Mr. Shue had left, and Kurt reappeared by the piano.

"So both of you are angels?" Puck asked, gesturing to Quinn and Kurt, who were on opposite sides of the room. Kurt nodded.

"Yes. Quinn and I have the same basic traits—we can see and hear each other, even if you guys can't."

"The main difference is that Kurt leads life and I find it and put it away," Quinn continued. "We hate each other on principle. He's fire, I'm ice. We don't go well together."

"Nothing Quinn or I have said leaves this room," Kurt announced. "Don't even talk about it in the hallways. Both of us are in huge trouble if anyone but you guys find out."

After everyone agreed, they all filed out of the room and to their respective homes. Blaine, Quinn, and Kurt were the last three in the room.

"Don't you have a job to do?" Kurt spat at Quinn. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Not until four. Lima's boring."

"Fine. Blaine, we have to go. Your brother's waiting for you." To prove his point, Kurt disappeared just as Cooper stuck his head into the room, Quinn following his example before Cooper could notice her.

"There you are," Cooper sighed. "Come on Blaine, let's get home before the cops notice I'm missing."

"Cooper!" Blaine scolded, smacking his brother's arm at the bad joke. Cooper laughed.

"I'm keeping my eye on you," Kurt said to Quinn from where he was sitting on the piano, still invisible to the Andersons. She flipped him off.

"See you, Fabray," Kurt called, following after Blaine and Cooper. He flashed into the back seat of the car and looked in the rearview mirror.

Kurt caught Blaine's eye and became visible to him, putting a finger to his lips to signal that he was invisible to Cooper. Blaine nodded once and put on his seatbelt.

"How was school?" Cooper asked his brother as they pulled out of the parking lot. Blaine shrugged and rubbed his arm over the bandages.

"Okay," he replied. He ran a hand through his hair, which he'd stopped gelling back a few months ago.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, save for Kurt singing along to the radio once or twice for Blaine's entertainment. When they pulled into the driveway, Kurt followed Blaine upstairs to his bedroom.

"Can Cooper hear you?" Blaine asked Kurt once the door was closed.

"Do you want him to?"

"No."

Kurt blinked once. "No."

"Good." Blaine sat down on the bed, crossing his legs. Kurt crawled up to the headboard and opened his arms, and after a moment Blaine sat in his lap.

"How long?" Blaine asked quietly. Kurt thought for a moment, playing with a strand of Blaine's hair.

"About two and a half months after," he answered. "It usually doesn't take too long to place someone."

Blaine went silent for a moment. Then he turned his head to look at Kurt.

"So that was you," he realized. "I wasn't imagining it. You... confused me, stopped me from—from killing myself."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. And in the coffee shop, remember? I was there."

"You wouldn't let me think about it," Blaine recalled. Kurt smiled.

"I love you," he whispered into Blaine's ear. Blaine blinked sleepily.

"I love you, too. I'm tired."

"Then sleep," Kurt offered. Blaine nodded and cuddled up to the angel.

"Don't leave," he whined. Kurt moved Blaine's hair from his face and hugged him closer, holding his hands.

"Never."

**~o0o~**

**A/N: Thanks for all the positive reviews! If you want to follow me on Tumblr, my URL is wavinmyrainbowflag. I have a habit of swearing. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!**


	3. Waiting for The End

**A/N: Fun fact: I had "Waiting For the End" stuck in my head when I finished writing this chapter. Listen to it and you might understand Blaine's thought process a bit better. **

**These chapters are getting shorter and shorter... I got it up to about 1000 words, though, so at least it's something! Hope you like!**

**~o0o~**

Blaine fell asleep happy. He woke up happy. But when he opened his eyes, the happiness disappeared.

_It was all a dream,_ he thought as he squinted against the sunlight through his window, immediately noticing the absence of Kurt's warmth beside him. It couldn't have been real—just a hallucination of some kind. Kurt was dead as ever. _It was all a fucking dream._ A tear rolled down Blaine's cheek and he pulled his blanket over his face, toying with the edge of the bandage on his arm.

_Stop,_ a voice pleaded in his head. Blaine sniffled and shook his head at the delusion, loosening the bandage with one hand.

_No. You're gone Kurt. I have to stop fooling myself._ Blaine's attempt to rationalize his thoughts was fruitless, as either his fantasy got stronger or... No. It wasn't possible.

"Blaine," the voice choked. Blaine froze at the sound, which wasn't in his head anymore. The mattress creaked as someone sat on it. A hand pulled the comforter off of Blaine's face.

"Stop, please," Kurt begged, holding the boy's hand still. Blaine blinked at him.

"It... It was real?" he asked, sounding stupid even to his own ears. Kurt laughed and layed down beside him, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist and holding him tightly.

"Yes, it was." He buried his face in Blaine's neck, trying to touch as much of his skin as possible. A warm, fuzzy feeling shot through Blaine and he melted into Kurt's embrace.

"I'm here, and I'm never leaving you, okay?" Kurt whispered. Blaine nodded silently and thought for a moment.

"You're lying," Blaine realized quietly. "I know it. You can't stay, can you?"

Kurt caught his eye and Blaine's suspicions were confirmed. "No, I can't," the angel admitted. "Not for long. But... I'm not lying. I'm never leaving you."

"He came for you," a voice said from the doorway. Both boys sat up to look at Quinn, who was glaring angrily at Kurt.

"Wait, what?" Blaine asked, shocked. Quinn rolled her eyes and stepped forwards.

"He did lie. He's not your guardian angel; he was sent to take you back to our world. And I'm not a death angel—well, at least not the way he explained it. The council made a mistake, giving him that much power over the life of someone he loved. Kurt," Quinn said louder, catching his attention as he shifted away from Blaine. "Nice try, but you're not getting out of this. If you forgot, I can read your thoughts if you aren't careful about it.

"Anyways, about a month and a half ago, you were supposed to die," Quinn stated, looking directly at Blaine. He shivered as she kept talking. "Instead of waiting for you to down the pills, though, Kurt Influenced you to stay alive."

"And that means..." Blaine trailed off, looking between Kurt and Quinn. Quinn motioned for Kurt to stay quiet and she kept talking.

"Escorts like Kurt can use Influence, which basically means they can alter your emotions enough to either push you to suicide or make you stand in the rain and contract fatal pneumonia. All it takes is to hear a single sound from their mouths and boom," Quinn snapped her fingers and Blaine suddenly felt insanely happy. She hummed a low tune and he almost fell asleep. When she spoke again, Blaine returned to normal. "Kurt abused his power."

"Why did you lie to me?" Blaine demanded angrily, turning to face Kurt. He balled his fists and leaned over the angel threateningly. "Why? You lied to me, you screwed with my emotions, and you saved me when I wasn't supposed to be—and really didn't want to be—saved. What else have you done to me?"

"I'm sorry," was all Kurt said as he tried to back away. A flash of alarm in Quinn's eye sparked and she turned to Kurt.

"Get out of here," she warned. "He'll end up hurting you. But remember—I'll find you and deal with you later. You're not escaping that easily."

Kurt nodded and disappeared before Blaine ended up taking a swing at him. He materialized beside Quinn for a split second and looked at Blaine sadly, whispering "I'm so sorry," one last time. There was a few seconds of silence as Blaine fumed and Quinn waited for him to either explode or calm down.

"So... who _is_ my guardian angel?" Blaine asked finally. Quinn stiffened and looked at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Guess. You've known them for a long time. They'd do anything for you, even when you shouldn't be alive. They treat you like every day is your last."

It didn't take long for the answer to form in Blaine's head. "Cooper," he whispered. Quinn smiled a tiny bit and nodded.

"He died when you were a baby. A car crash that killed your entire family, save for you. You were in an orphanage for about a month before he came back. He'd gotten fake ID's for both of you, and moved from Washington to Westerville. Altered people's memories a bit, and you two became the poor orphaned grandsons of the richest family in town."

Quinn let Blaine absorb the new information for a few minutes, then sat beside him on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," she whispered. Blaine looked at her for a second, then closed his eyes and fell backwards onto the bed.

"Do it," he mumbled. "I shouldn't be here; I should have died two months ago."

Blaine felt Quinn's hand brush over his forehead, touching his skin as little as possible as she moved his hair from his eyes.

"Goodbye," she whispered in his ear, and he suddenly felt tired. Very tired. But also... Free. Nothing was wrong, nothing mattered.

He was gone.

**~o0o~**

**A/N: It's not over yet! That's all I'm saying. **

**Unrelated: Whoever knows where I got the Influence and angel transitions (Kurt and Quinn disappearing but still being there) from first gets a sneak peek of Chapter 4! Has to be a non-anon review of this chapter or it doesn't count. **

**Have any questions? Feel free to ask! My tumblr account is wavinmyrainbowflag, and fic asks will be tagged "questionable grilled cheese." I'm also open to prompts :)**


	4. Distorted Imaginations

**A/N: I'm disappointed in you, readers! Nobody guessed! It's Tod's reaper abilities (the disappearing) and the male _bean sihde _Influence from the Soul Screamers series (Rachel Vincent. They're good. Go read them if you haven't already!). **

**I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter, and I just realized how much I ripped off Doctor Who. It's not intentional! *hides***

**Anyways, read on! There's more at the bottom!**

**~o0o~**

The first thought that ran through Blaine's head when he woke up:_ I should be dead._ The second: _Where the fuck am I?_

He opened his eyes against a harsh light and propped himself up on one elbow, surveying his surroundings. He appeared to be in a dorm room of some kind—he was laying in the lower level of a black metal framed bunk bed, the wall beside it covered in marker doodles of dragons and snakes and countless mythical creatures. From what he could see there was a single bed in the far corner with posters plastering the walls near it. A mini fridge, toaster oven, microwave, and hot plate sat beside the closet at his feet for a makeshift kitchen. The clothes he was wearing were simple—a white cotton shirt and dark red pyjama bottoms.

He got up and stumbled towards the door across the room. Locked. Considering he was deliberately put in this room by some unknown person, Blaine figured he was allowed to raid their fridge. He found a bottle of water and an apple and sat back down on the bed, thinking about everything and nothing and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

After about half an hour, Blaine heard laughter from the other side of the door. Keys rattling, the door unlocking, and then a boy and a girl with their arms weighed down with textbooks walked in. The boy, his spiky black hair streaked with electric blue on one side, set his books down on the far bed and looked over at Blaine.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he greeted with a light Irish accent. He walked over and sat on the bed beside Blaine, giving him a quick once-over.

"Who are you?" Blaine asked quietly, running a hand through his hair. The boy laughed and smiled.

"I'm Isaac Harlett."

"Where am I?"

"Undercover," the girl said from where she was sitting on the far bed. Blaine looked up and caught her eye.

"Quinn," he sighed, relieved to find a familiar face. "What happened?"

"Before I tell you," Quinn began, shoving Isaac out of the way and taking his place, "How much do you remember?"

"You—you said goodbye, and I... fell asleep?" Blaine guessed for lack of a better word. Isaac paid them no mind and grabbed a bag of gummy bears from a makeshift cupboard—an old filing cabinet with the drawers taken out and a black curtain hanging over the front—before taking a black marker off the back of the door and drawing what looked like a vampire/kitten/angel hybrid on the wall.

"Died, actually," Quinn admitted. "I took you, minus your body, here. You've been asleep for a few days, regenerating a physical form."

"So... I'm dead?" Blaine asked. Quinn nodded.

"Then... Why am I here? I thought you had to be significant to keep going."

Quinn looked at him like she was trying to see through his words and into his mind. After a few seconds of silence, Quinn smiled.

"You are," she said quietly. "You've changed millions of lives without even knowing. So has Kurt, and me, and everyone else in the McKinley glee club. We'll never know them, but they know us so well already. They've been in our minds, they know our pain and joy." A few seconds of silence. "But they don't know this, this moment. Their memories have been wiped, every single one of them. They think nothing happened to Kurt, or you. That all three of us are still human. And... something is blocking us now."

"Woah..." Blaine heard Issac mutter from the other side of the room. He looked at the boy for a second and then back to Quinn before he understood.

Quinn was literally glowing, her eyes wide open and still staring at Blaine. They locked gazes and words started pouring out of Quinn's mouth.

"It's a full sweep. The worlds' minds have been reprogrammed and thought to believe nothing has happened. I've never seen power as strong as this—not even a full state, much less a whole planet, and holding so steadily. It's completely out of control."

"A whole world?" Isaac asked as he wrote everything Quinn said on the wall beside his drawing. "How? We would have noticed, wouldn't we?"

"We might have if it was here. It's a whole other dimension, taking us and showing people our lives as a TV show. They showed what happened when Kurt came back, and the population went out of control."

"What happened, Quinn?" Isaac asked, panicked. "What did they do?"

"They stopped them, wiped their memories, and tried to keep going without us. They kept the show going, and turned it into a narrative. And... They're blocking me. I can't get through, the signal's too strong."

"Don't fight it, Quinn. Let it go, You'll tire yourself out if you try to force your way through," Isaac persuaded, capping his marker. Quinn closed her eyes, the glow faded, and she fell back onto the mattress. Isaac cleared off the bed on the opposite side of the room and carried her over, laying her down gently.

"I haven't seen that happen before; that glow. Sure, I've seen her search like that before, but the glow is new."

"Maybe it's because it was into another dimension," Blaine suggested, looking at the writing on the wall. "And didn't she say that thing—the signal—was really powerful?"

Isaac thought for a moment. "Yeah," he agreed. He looked at Blaine for a second and smiled.

"Mind your head," he warned. Isaac turned back to the wall and pointed at it, then his kitten doodle floated out into the air and over beside Blaine. It swatted at one of his curls and flew around his head before Isaac directed it to the wall behind the bed, where it froze chasing it's tail.

"That's cool," Blaine laughed. Isaac rolled his eyes.

"More like chaotic. Don't let anything poke you in the eye!"

All at once, the writing on the wall flew off and started reorganizing itself. Isaac grabbed his marker and started adding notes as sentences scrolled past his face, drawing asterisks and circles in midair and adding bullet points on how Quinn was acting when she said a certain thing. He drew a little bird, which came to life and fetched him a basket of markers and pens. He grabbed a red Sharpie and started writing with both hands.

Blaine stared at Isaac as the bird landed on Isaac's shoulder, chirping little tidbits of information into his ear. Blaine dodged a comma as it came spinning toward his head, changing direction at the last second and rejoining whatever word it had come from.

The words eventually slowed down and stuck themselves back to the wall, this time more spread out to accommodate what Isaac had added.

"I don't think it's safe to get into this," he whispered. He studied the writing for a minute before turning to Blaine.

"Do you trust me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

Blaine laughed. "Then I guess I have to say yes."

"Perfect." Isaac sat on the bed beside Blaine and put a hand on his shoulder. "I need more information. Anything that could help me figure this out more clearly."

"I thought you said it was dangerous," Blaine tried cautiously. Isaac laughed and tapped a scar on his neck, extremely faint but still there.

"Never stopped me. Can you let me in? Open your mind and let me get to some of your memories?"

"How?"

"It's easy. Just don't resist it unless I'm getting into something really personal. You ready?"

Blaine nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Isaac's hand on his cheek and a few seemingly pointless memories came up. He let them through. Isaac kept searching through, picking out most of the things that happened after Kurt came back. After a few minutes, Isaac dropped his hand and Blaine opened his eyes.

Words and phrases from old conversations floated around the room, Isaac adding more and more notes with a marker his doodle bird had brought him. Blaine climbed to the top bunk of the bed and watched, adding little details every once in a while and swatting away rogue punctuation.

"You have anything yet?" Blaine asked after about an hour, hoping something productive came out of all this. Isaac nodded as he directed Blaine's last human memory around the room.

"Not much, but this," he guided a few sentences over in front of Blaine so he could read them:

"_It's a full sweep." _

"_An entire planet, holding so steadily." _

"My point is, it would take a lot of power to change everyone on earth's memory. I don't doubt that whoever did it is powerful, but the wider something's spread the thinner it is."

"So you're saying that the thing's weak?" Blaine asked, slightly confused. Quinn snored from the other side of the room, as if she was saying she was bored with Isaac's theorizing.

"No. It's not called a clean sweep for nothing. When you sweep dirt off the floor, there's little bits left, right?" Isaac prodded. Blaine nodded.

"There might be people who weren't effected by it," Blaine realized. Isaac smiled and guided the words back to the wall.

"Some people might remember bits and pieces. Have you heard of the neverending story theory?"

"No. What's that?"

"Here." Isaac drew a short sentence in midair. _"Victoria read a book about a princess." _

"The neverending story theory says that there is actually a girl named Victoria somewhere reading a book about a princess. And that princess, who could be reading, exists. And the main character in that book, and so on and so forth. My point is, if the theory is true, someone knows."

"What, we're in a book?" Blaine laughed as the doodle bird landed on his hand.

"Nope," Isaac said. "But we are in a story. Someone in the world that got brainwashed has the mind of a writer, someone that remembers everything that's not important only to find out it was important later." He turned to Blaine and a huge, manic smile crossed his face.

"Somebody knows about us. Our story's being told."

**~o0o~**

**A/N: Dun dun dunnnnnnn. Before you ask, no I'm not putting myself in the story. My personality is too inconsistent for that. **

**I am, however, sticking my friends in as random OC's. For example, Isaac is my friend Victoria. (She says hello, internet!) She actually drew the vampire/kitten/angel thing for me. **

**Contest time! I need a name for Isaac's ability. No anon answers will be counted, and it has to be a review on this chapter! I'll tell you via tumblr who the winner is when I choose! Your winnings: a sneak peek at a future Klaine scene and becoming my official title for Isaac's power. He can't do much other than what's shown in this chapter. **

**Got any questions? Check out my tumblr (wavinmyrainbowflag). Everything for this story will be tagged "questionable grilled cheese."**


	5. A Not So Happy Ending

**A/N: Wow. That's all I have to say. You'll get it when you read the A/N at the bottom. But read the story first! :D**

**~o0o~**

"Wait," Blaine said carefully. "So you're saying someone's... watching us?"

"Sort of," Isaac granted. "Basically we're in someone's mind. They're writing about us, someone's writing about them, blah blah blah, theories theories theories."

"I guess I can deal with that. I mean, whoever it is has been watching me my entire life, right?"

"Probably. I'm going to drop it for now, okay? I'm exhausted." The words floating around the room made their way back to the wall and the doodle bird under Blaine's bunk, where presumably it joined the rest of it's fellow marker animals. Isaac put his marker away and flopped onto the bed with a sigh.

"What time is it?" Blaine asked.

"Eleven thirty," Isaac replied with a yawn. Something that looked like a gryphon flew across the room and flicked off the light switch.

"G'night," Isaac mumbled. Blaine rolled his eyes and layed down, falling asleep relatively quickly for someone who had been unconscious for the past three days.

**~o0o~**

Kurt was having an awful day.

Quinn had found him earlier and yelled at him, forcing him to go fix things at McKinley—easier said than done, even after he'd roped Cooper into helping him. They managed to convince everyone that neither Quinn or Blaine had been at McKinley that year, Blaine still being at Dalton and Quinn having moved out of state.

"Okay. Done," Kurt sighed, falling into the wall of the school. Cooper glared at him.

"I still don't know whether to thank you or punch you," he grumbled, crossing his arms. Kurt laughed.

"Just hit me. I can't die, remember?"

"It'll still hurt," Cooper reasoned. "Though that doesn't tip the scale at all."

"How many times will I have to say I'm sorry?" Kurt demanded, standing up straight and walking into the parking lot. Cooper followed him silently for a while, Kurt leading the way back to the Anderson's place.

"He woke up a few days ago, you know," Cooper called. Kurt froze in his tracks. "Quinn and Isaac won't tell me where he is, though. Isaac said something about letting him cool down and get used to things before he saw you again."

"Did they give you an update?" Kurt asked. Cooper walked forward and stopped a few feet behind him.

"No. Just said he's awake and he hasn't come up with a noticeable trait yet."

"Thanks." Kurt turned and faced Cooper. "I'll see you later." Kurt blinked and disappeared, finding himself in what was obviously a student dorm hallway. He knocked on the door at the end of the hall, Room 249, with a little scribble on the whiteboard nameplate: _I and Q are here for you! Knock first or get kicked to the dirt!_

Isaac cracked the door open and stepped out, closing it behind himself. Silently, he grabbed Kurt's sleeve and pulled him back down the hall to the staircase.

"What are you doing here, Kurt? How did you know?" he demanded angrily.

"Know what? That Blaine woke up or that you were holding him here?"

"Both."

Kurt sighed and wriggled out of Isaac's grip. "Cooper said you told him Blaine woke up. You and Quinn only have two hiding spots: here and the Anderson place. Considering he wasn't with Cooper I knew he'd be here."

"You can't go in."

"Why not?"

"Quinn's trying to find his trait. She sensed that he had one but can't find what it is."

Kurt thought for a moment. "I have an idea. Let me talk to him, please."

"I already said—"

"I know what you said," Kurt interrupted. "But Blaine's good at finding things he's not looking for and achieving nothing when he searches. I'll try not to get in trouble."

Isaac stiffened and considered Kurt for a minute. Then he nodded.

"Fine. Stay here, I'll be right back." Isaac fled down the hallway and went back into his room, emerging a few minutes later with Blaine at his side.

"Uh, hi," Kurt began awkwardly, keeping his distance. Blaine returned the greeting with a wave.

"You want to go for a walk? Just outside?" Kurt asked. He turned to Isaac. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Isaac allowed. Blaine nodded.

"Let's go, then."

They made their way downstairs and outside, Isaac following about fifty feet behind them. Kurt lead the way to a small fountain, all but deserted in the winter chill.

"Why did you lie to me?" Blaine asked after a few minutes of silence. Kurt looked up and shook his head.

"Blaine, don't..."

"Why Kurt? Why?" Blaine shouted, his temper flaring. "Don't you understand?"

"Understand what?" Kurt wondered, trying to keep his voice—and hopefully Blaine's irritability—down.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You don't understand how I feel about what you did to me," Blaine stated angrily. "I was depressed, I wanted to die! You don't know what it feels like to be saved when you don't want to be saved. You can't just ignore fate, Kurt! If you knew I would come back, would you have let me die?"

Kurt's answer came quickly. "Yes, I would have because it hurt me so much to see you like that, and I thought that if you got me back you'd be happy again!"

"That's not how it works, Kurt. No matter what you think, there's no happily ever after. We lived, we died, the end." Blaine sat on the edge of the fountain, putting his head in his hands. "Except it isn't the end, not for us. We have to go through it all over again forever, because we're already dead. The dead can't die."

"But it's not the same thing—"

"That's not what I said," Blaine corrected, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Nothing is the same, ever. Things change, Kurt, and people change too. _I've_ changed. I'm sorry, but I need to figure out who I am before I figure out who I want with me." He stood up and looked Kurt in the eye. "This isn't goodbye," he whispered, resting his hand on the older boy's shoulder. "It's not where our story ends. But nothing can be the same again between us." He turned and walked away, shivering against the cold.

"Blaine..." Kurt called weakly after him.

"No, Kurt. I have to go," Blaine responded without turning or stopping.

Kurt was silent for a few seconds. "I still love you, you know," he said finally.

Blaine stopped. He smiled, even though Kurt couldn't see it. "I do, too. See you later."

Blaine kept walking, taking his time on the way back to the dorm room. Quinn had told him they were at a boarding school in northern California, but Blaine hadn't really explored much. He retraced his steps, finding his way easily.

"How'd you find your way back?" Isaac asked him once he was inside. Blaine shrugged.

"I don't know. And don't pretend you didn't stalk us," he added, making his way upstairs.

"How did you know I was following you?" Isaac pondered.

"I heard you," Blaine answered simply.

"Blaine, I was fifty feet behind you. You couldn't have heard me; I was completely silent." Isaac opened the door and let Blaine into the room, sitting down on Quinn's bed.

"Well you sure breathe loudly for a silent person." Blaine was quiet for a moment. "Kurt, I know you're there. Stop spying on me," he called out the window. Sure enough, Kurt poked his head out from behind a stone pillar thirty feet away and frowned. He disappeared with a shrug.

"I heard him," Blaine repeated when Isaac gave him a funny look.

"Hypersensitivity," Quinn identified. "Now I get how it was so easy for Isaac and I to get into your mind; you can focus on anything and remember the smallest, if irrelevant, details."

"Isaac said I had the mind of a writer, like the person we're looking for," Blaine recalled.

"Yes," Isaac confirmed. "Your thoughts were easy to navigate, like you'd already written everything out for me. And usually it takes Quinn longer to get through than what happened the other day."

"Can I search again?" Quinn asked, hopping off of Blaine's bunk and sitting on the floor. "Now that I know what you're able to do, I want to see if I can find what might branch off of it."

"I feel like a lab rat," Blaine joked. He nodded and sat beside Quinn, giving her his hand. He could feel her thoughts zipping around and mixing with his, confusing him slightly but not bugging him. He closed his eyes and saw what Quinn saw—green and blue swirls of thoughts and information, which she rooted through and found that little hypersensitive part she was looking for earlier. It stood out, bright red on the dark background, but Quinn had been unable to identify it until now.

She looked around it, thinking thoughts Blaine didn't understand, for a few minutes. It was weird when she did this, like there were two people in Blaine's head. Quinn sort of pushed Blaine out of the way, but he didn't try to interrupt and just watched contentedly. Her mind looked cool, everything represented by colours and patterns rather than words like Blaine's. It was a nice change.

After about fifteen minutes, Quinn's mind faded out and Blaine opened his eyes.

"Your mind is a very strange place," Quinn commented. "So many random details and happy thoughts everywhere. Definitely not boring, that's for sure."

"I could say the same for you," Blaine laughed. Quinn cocked her head at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means that you have different thoughts than me," he clarified, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. "When I think, all I see is letters and numbers. When I see you think, it's all colours. I like it."

"You see me think?" Quinn asked. "Usually when I do that to people they just black out until I let go."

"Yeah. My power, the hypersensitivity, you see it as a bright red buzz. It just looks like words to me. I can see what you're doing and thinking, but you push me out of the way. I've never fought it."

"Huh," Quinn huffed. "It's like you're super glued to your consciousness, but your thoughts still wander."

"Telepath, maybe?" Isaac suggested. "Stronger than mine, if he can get into your mind without you noticing."

"That's what it looked like," Quinn confirmed. She shook her head and got up, climbing back onto Blaine's bed and rearranging his pillows so she could lean against the wall. "There was something else though, I just can't figure out what it is."

Blaine tuned out Quinn and Isaac, instead staring at the ceiling and listening to everything else. He heard the building's heater most clearly, the fan whirring loudly. The sound was intriguing, as it was the first thing he heard. He'd expected it to be someone's phone ringing or something.

_Wait,_ he thought. His mind instantly went insane, scanning through the barely organized library of facts he'd collected over the years.

After about thirty seconds of million-mile-an-hour thinking, Blaine tried something.

He breathed a steady stream of air from his mouth, then imagined it swirling around and creating a miniature tornado in the air above his head. Sure enough, a tiny windstorm agitated the dust in the air and blew around Blaine's hair. He thought of it becoming still, and the wind stopped.

"Quinn," he interrupted, sitting up and catching her attention. "Check this out. I think I found what you were looking for." He summoned up his little tornado again, throwing a little handful of ripped up paper into it for clarity.

"How'd you figure that out so quickly?" Quinn asked, leaning forward. Blaine blew the paper into the garbage can and stilled the air.

"Easy. When I listen, the first thing I hear is wind—Isaac breathing, Kurt whispering to himself, the fan on the central heating. I can feel it, too. All the sound waves. I figured if I could feel tiny vibrations that easily, I might be able to manipulate them. It worked."

Quinn stared at him. "Blaine, it took you like a minute and a half to figure out what I've been trying to dissect for days. Talk about warp speed..."

"My brain's always worked fast, I guess," Blaine admitted. "I would talk so fast people couldn't understand me and still not get all my ideas out."

"Mind of a writer," Isaac repeated. "You can think of and see everything at once. It gets pretty confusing sometimes."

"Tell me about it," Blaine laughed. He got up and joined Quinn on his bed, sitting with his feet on the wall and his head hanging off the side of the mattress.

"I'm going to go get dinner. Any requests?" Isaac asked.

"Pizza," Blaine answered at the same time that Quinn said, "Burgers."

"Chinese it is," Isaac laughed, grabbing his keys and coat and walking out the door before either one could protest.

Quinn sighed and got off the bed, pulling a pink iPad out of her dresser and turning it on. Blaine stole his pillows back and dropped them and his comforter to the floor, rolling off the bed after them and landing with a soft thud. Quinn laughed at him and piled their blankets on Isaac's bed while Blaine plugged in her iPad and stood it on the desk he had dragged to the end of the bed.

"What do you want to watch?" Blaine asked as Quinn turned the bottom bunk into a pillow fort. Quinn shrugged.

"How about Juno? I haven't seen it in a while."

Blaine nodded and scrolled through the list of movies, choosing the one Quinn wanted and pausing it until Isaac got back.

Two hours later, the three of them were full and tired and happy. They ended up falling asleep together, Blaine using Quinn as a pillow while Isaac curled into a ball at the end of the bed.

They'd clean up in the morning.

**~o0o~**

**A/N: Would you believe I wrote all that in two days? Actually, save for 222 words (the Kurt/Blaine argument, dialogue only), I wrote it all in about twelve hours. **

**I am insane. **

**Chapter contest: Whoever guesses the two songs Blaine referenced while he was talking to Kurt gets a preview of next chapter! Non-anon reviews of this chapter are the only answers I accept, even if you do answer correctly! **

**Questions? Ask away at my tumblr (wavinmyrainbowflag). :D**


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